


And When We Meet

by nevercomestheday



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- Brown Lives, Buddies, Friendship, Gen, Head Injury, Hospitals, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7143782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevercomestheday/pseuds/nevercomestheday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU based on the theory that Brown wasn't shot in the head, but rather simply bashed his head against something and passed out, leading Freddy and Larry to believe he'd died. He and Pink are now the only survivors. Pink/Brown buddy fic!</p>
            </blockquote>





	And When We Meet

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a lyric from Heartbeat, It's A Lovebeat (by the DeFranco Family), the song Pink mentions in the diner as being on K-Billy's!  
> Yay Pink and Brown buddy fic <3
> 
> Characters belong to the wonderful Quentin Tarantino.

When Brown wakes up, he finds two officers and a team of paramedics swarmed around the cop car White had shot at. The two deceased officers are being loaded onto stretchers and sealed into body bags, and so far, no one has noticed he’s alive.  
  
His head is still bleeding a little, and he’s very dizzy. This concussion is worse than the time he got headbutted playing little league. He groans, then realizes he should not be making noise.  
  
“Aw, shit. Fuck, shut up!” he moans. Luckily, no one can hear him over the sirens and the police officers making their reports.  
  
He pushes the door to his car open and tries to take a few steps, but nope! That’s not going to happen, he realizes as he drops to the ground. His knees gave out like nothing.  
  
The cops notice that, and within seconds a paramedic is lifting him up.   
  
“Are you okay, sir? Were you shot?” the medic asks as she looks Brown over.  
  
“Wha? No, bashed my fuckin’ head in…” he groans loudly. He then proceeds to puke all over the medic’s shoes.  
  
“Damn it… Jerry! We got a live one! Load him onto the bus!”  
  
One of the cops rushes over. “I’ve got to cuff him first,” he says.  
  
The medic rolls her eyes. “You can cuff him when we get him to the hospital. He needs a brain scan.”   
  
—  
  
When Brown wakes up again, he’s in a soft hospital bed. The lights are too bright above him and he squints.   
  
“Where the fuck…” He goes to lift his arm, but finds his wrist cuffed to the bed. “Damn it…”  
  
A nurse comes in shortly after he wakes, and following behind her is a solemn-looking officer.   
  
Brown, being himself, smiles at the nurse. “How do I look? Is my hair okay?”  
  
The nurse giggles, and even the cop covers his mouth to hide a grin.   
  
“You need a new bandage!” she says with a warm smile. She gets to work changing his dressing while the officer fills Brown in.  
  
—  
  
After a long, sobering message from the police officer (and finding out several of his pseudo-friends are dead), Brown opens his mouth to respond.  
  
“Is Mr. Pink okay?” His mouth is dry. “Also, can I have some more of those ice chips?”  
  
—  
  
The nurse with the warm smile is back, and today it’s time to take a walk. They let him out of his cuffs after determining he’s not a flight risk (poor bastard can hardly walk himself to the bathroom; he’s not going anywhere).   
  
His nurse, Janet, helps him out of bed and over to his walker. His gown is open in the back, but luckily they’ve given him some new underwear. They’re powder blue, and Brown still thinks that’s funny.  
  
They’re making their way down the hall, slow step by slow step, when a familiar figure comes out of his room, also on a walker with an equally kind-looking nurse on his arm.  
  
“Pinky! Buddy!” Brown waves an arm, goofy smile plastered on his face.  
  
After everything he’s been through, after watching friends and colleagues shoot one another dead, after being shot and arrested and operated on, Pink is surprised to find himself absurdly happy to see this fool.  
  
“Brown, you son of a bitch, you’re alive?” He almost looks like he’s about to break down crying.   
  
“Can I go give him a hug?” Brown asks the nurse, trying to push the walker out of the way.  
  
“It’s fine, it’s f-” Pink starts, but when Brown nearly trips over to him, he smiles and accepts the hug. “Hey.”  
  
“I’m so glad you’re alive!” Brown says. “But of course it’s you, you’d be the one I expected to survive! You’re wily, you wily coyote you.”   
  
Brown is clearly still very disoriented, but Pink laughs loudly anyway. It’s more a laugh of relief than anything. This goofy son of a bitch is alive, and Pink is thankful. Happy. He’d listen to this nut talk about Madonna songs and conspiracies and whatever else for a year, happily.   
  
—  
  
Pink is going home today, but Brown has at least another week on his time. They’ve both agreed to a plea bargain and they’ll both be put on probation. For some reason, along with excellent legal representation, the judges are lenient and the cops don’t push as many charges as they could. They’re probably just as shaken up by the violent affair as the survivors are.  
  
Pink and Brown are lucky, and they both know it, even through Brown’s ever-improving diminished capacity.  
  
“So, uh…” Pink looks around Brown’s hospital room, noting the pictures he’s colored and had the nurses tape to his wall. It’s adorable and charming, in a weird sort of way. “I’m goin’ home today.”  
  
“Aw, no way! You think they’ll let me go soon?” He drops his head down onto his pillow, tongue out, playing dead. He imitates the beeping noise of his monitor flatlining.  
  
Pink laughs, less and less surprised each time it happens. “You? I’m sure you’ll be home tomorrow.”  
  
“Yeah, right.” Brown sighs. “I’ll miss getting to talk to you. Nobody else in this place gets it.”  
  
He’s got a point, Pink can’t deny that. Through all this, he’s made an unlikely friend and ally. Brown is the only person who understands (however confusedly) what Pink has been through. He just… gets it.  
  
“Well, you won’t have to miss me too much. We’ll… we’ll see each other.”  
  
Brown’s face lights up. “You mean it? Ah, that’ll be great! I can finally show you my record collection! Man, you’re gonna love it. I’ve got a cherry copy of Abbey Road, never played! Hey, did I ever tell you about Faul? Y’know, fake Paul? They replaced him after he died in ‘66, you know.”  
  
Pink shakes his head and chuckles. “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”  
  
A nurse comes in and knocks on the door. She looks at Pink. “Time for you to go home, mister. Let’s go.”  
  
Brown sticks out his hand, and Pink shakes it.   
  
“Look me up when you get out, okay?” Pink says.  
  
“No doubt!” Brown grins. “Wait… what’s your name?”  
  
Pink smiles.


End file.
